Four

by Archer Kay Leah

  Tash held up his hands. "Sorry, you're right—"

  "Older."

  "Pardon?"

  "I'm the eldest, Loftin's the baby, and Tara reminds him of it every chance she gets." Mayr grinned. "I just wanted to see what you'd say. I don't need the penalty. I can wait this out." He held his arms out at his sides. "What goes first? Don't be shy. Not like you haven't had it in your hands before."

  "No, no it isn't." Tash's smug tone made Mayr's cock stiffen, reminded of the attention Tash had lavished upon it. "The belts, if you would. I find sharp weapons… unsettling."

  Of course you do. Mayr removed the belt with his scabbard and sword, then the second belt that carried his knife. He laid them beside the path near a bed of bright blue flowers and yellow ferns. "Your turn. Same question, I believe? Those were the rules, right?"

  "Yes, they were," Tash murmured, almost as though he regretted his choice of topic. "Parents and an older sister. Parase, Kilienn, and Allaysia. They lived in a village in south Gailarin. Araveena Ford, less than half a day from here. Owned the tailor's shop where my mother worked as a seamstress. They're dead, far as I know." Blinking, he appeared to battle tears. A sharp breath later, Tash's expression changed and he straightened. "But now onto the clothes. Your selection?"

  "Robe," Mayr replied, but his attention was elsewhere, even as Tash shrugged the robe off and placed it aside. Curiosity pinned his anticipation to his groin and ransacked his thoughts. He wanted to know about Tash's family more than he wanted to see Tash naked. All of them dead? How? When? Most of all, he wanted to hold Tash and let him speak at length of the departed, even if it ended in tears. While there were days Mayr wondered how his own mother could survive, he never wanted to imagine being without his family.

  "Your question now."

  Mayr struggled to find a question not about Tash's family. "Choice of station," he said. "Why did you become a priest?"

  Pain and disgust flitted across Tash's features. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, almost rehearsed. "I got into a lot of things I wasn't proud of. I made bad choices; even worse friends. Getting out of it was the hardest thing I've done, but being a priest felt right. Like where I should be. A fair exchange for leaving those unforgivable days behind." He nodded at Mayr. "Why did you become a guard? Head of the Guard, at that?"

  "Needed the pay." Mayr tilted his head, trying to imagine Tash getting into trouble or breaking the law. "My mother couldn't help with the farm anymore and things were difficult. So I asked my father to enlist me with Korre Dahe's guard. We'd met him several times, since part of my father's crop came to the estate. Korre took pity on me and gave me work. I was eleven, then, doing a lot of small jobs. Helping soldiers, carrying stuff, learning some basic training. I moved up to soldier when I was sixteen and trained until I nearly killed myself. Aeley helped, of course." He shrugged. "When our Head Guard retired, I was twenty-six and tougher than most of the lot. Determined. Stubborn as Ae and could put up with her idiot brother. Korre trusted me and offered me the position. I couldn't say no—I couldn't disappoint him. So here I am, and you still haven't taken anything off." Shaking his head, he snapped his fingers and pointed. "The belt's got to go."

  "Done. Your bracers."

  They removed the clothing and tossed them aside.

  "Relationships," Tash said. "How many intimate relationships have you been in, including Sarene?"

  "By the Four, you're going to make me count?" Mayr stared upwards. "Give me a moment."

  How many had there been? First, when I was… then her… then her… and that horrible one… Betta… Another, another, another… Tash, you're cruel. And you lied. I count this as strenuous.

  "Can I just say enough?" Mayr answered, wincing. "No? That doesn't count as an answer?" When Tash smirked, Mayr sighed and held up his hands. "Fifteen, maybe? And that makes me sound like a—"

  "Thirty."

  "You… win?" Mayr gawked at Tash. "And haven't you been busy."

  "Casual relationships, remember? I haven't been tied to anyone for years." Tash tugged on Mayr's black shirt. "And I'd like this to come off. While it looks good on you, I'd rather see you." His hands slipped under the shirt. Warm palms slid over the defined contour of Mayr's stomach. "Feel you—"

  Mayr yanked his shirt over his head faster than he could think. Fingertips crawled up his skin over the fine, dark hair of his chest. The feather-light weight of Tash's touch caused Mayr's heartbeat to trip and stutter. The moment Tash's lips delved into the crook of his neck, kneading the skin and biting gently, Mayr's heart raced. Was the game supposed to work that way? Did it matter? Exposing more of his neck to the tender touch, he held Tash close, raking one hand through Tash's wavy hair.

  "Bracers," Mayr whispered.

  "Mmm?"

  "Your bracers. The game. They're my next choice."

  The questing lips stopped. Tash pushed back, his playful expression gone. "No. Those need to stay on."

  "But—"

  "I swear everything else is fair game, just not those. Please. Please," Tash repeated softly. The piercing fear in Tash's tone matched that in his eyes.

  He was begging, not just simply denying.

  "All right," Mayr agreed, cupping his palms around Tash's cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'll even things: the shirt."

  Tash complied, his desperation to keep his bracers on confusing Mayr. Since the tavern, Mayr had considered the bracers a matter of armour or vanity. Perhaps they were something else altogether. Sentiment? A means to hide something?

  The more they bared themselves, the less he knew about Tash. He only had more questions.

  Like what Tash's scars were from, he remembered, glimpsing Tash's naked chest. The marks left by blades were disconcerting, but the burns bothered him the most; ugly, dark stains on smooth, enticing skin.

  "So." Mayr took a breath. He wanted the sensual Tash back; the one who could not wait to touch him. "Where were we?"

  "Your question."

  "Right. Hmm. Men or women? Your preference, I mean. For lovers."

  "Neither," Tash answered, smiling. "And both."

  "Is that really an answer?"

  "Yes."

  "And I think you're trying to get out of this."

  "Like you are?"

  "Hey, I'm not trying to get out of anything."

  "Then answer the question."

  Mayr's face warmed. "Women, but that's all I can say. I never followed through with men. Not until you." The tips of his ears grew hot, almost burning. Words he had avoided saying had finally slipped out. Did he sound as stupid as he thought he did?

  Maybe not, he thought as Tash kissed him.

  "Thank you. I'll still take care of you." Tash kissed Mayr's cheek. "But the boots have to come off."

  "Yours, too."

  They tossed their boots aside together, adding to their respective piles.

  "Tattoos." Tash traced the lines of the dark tattoos that circled all the way around Mayr's neck. "I'm curious about what they are; what they mean."

  "Warnings, protective icons, declarations of justice and peace unless under attack. Basically, I'm harmless until you make me angry. Like waking the Fanged Beast of Adornat—he rips everything out through your guts and then tosses the pieces around for good measure. You can see the markings of Hastal and Navara, actually, right here," Mayr said, pointing to the sides of his neck. "And, hold on, shouldn't you know that? You're a priest. You should…" He stopped, seeing Tash's smirk. "Of course you do. What was I thinking?"

  "I just wanted to see what you'd say." Tash laughed and held up Mayr's left wrist. "But this, and the ones on your back, I don't understand their significance."

  Mayr studied the swirls and curves of the tree tattooed on the inside of his forearm. Memories surfaced, clearer than the scars the tattoo covered. They were no less bittersweet. "Ae's father, after he was elected Tract Steward, wanted a tattoo to remind him of what his position really meant. He chose a tree, on his chest, near his heart. The leaves
are the High Council and Tract Stewards; the roots are the people. The trunk is the integrity, trust, honesty, and respect that connect them. 'The Council and Stewards might be bright and can dance to the rhythm of the wind,' he told me, 'but they are grounded by the people. Without the people, they cannot exist.'"

  With other memories of Korre in his thoughts, Mayr touched his arm. "He was good to me and my family. After he died, it seemed fitting to do something that reminded me of him. I did this, a copy of his. It's over scars I got defending him." He shook his head. "I was young, stupid. Got into brawls I never should've been near. But this one time, some guys were mouthing off, throwing threats around. They thought it'd be fun to break into the estate in the middle of the night and see what they could do. Me and a few other soldiers didn't like the topic, so we decided to put them in their place. My friends did; I got my pride shoved down my throat and marks to remember it. I still don't like shattered glass to this day."

  "I don't blame you," Tash said. "The markings on your back?"

  "They're for my family. Entwined birds for my parents; conjoined bearcat cubs for my brother and sister. The arawolfe for Ae, especially since she's vicious in the morning. And the budding vine for—" Mayr hesitated, unable to say the names. "A couple others." He ran his hands up Tash's back, imagining how the feathers of his tattoo would feel had they been real. "But enough about mine. What about this? It must have taken days to do."

  Tash sucked in a breath as Mayr caressed the dip in his lower back. "It did. Days' worth of pain, too. Dare I say what it is? You should already know."

  "Say it anyway."

  "Halataldris."

  "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Mayr teased Tash's lower lip with his lips. "Because it wouldn't make any sense to get the bird you're named after. Now, how about those pants?"

  "Mine for yours."

  "Done." Mayr's pants were off before Tash finished with his. Reminded of his aching erection while he waited, Mayr was tempted to glide his hands over Tash's contracting muscles as Tash moved.

  When Tash stood unclothed, illuminated by the moonlight, Mayr's gaze drifted down Tash's body. Hard ridges and soft curves whet his desire. His focus wandered over the patch of dark hair leading to Tash's tightening sex strained in his direction, thick and ready for attention. Wearing only bracers and his talon ring, everything about Tash was real. In a blend of contrasts, he was tough and gentle all at once. The longer Mayr stared, the more contradictions fell away, leaving the consuming sense of being connected well beyond their understanding. Nothing could soothe the feeling of familiarity burning him from inside. Touch only fueled the fire.

  "Last one. This one's for the ring." Mayr licked his lips, caught between wanting to feel the talon's piercing tip graze his skin and seeing Tash without it. If not for his curiosity, he would have let Tash keep it. It would be another fantasy for another time. "Your scars—what are they from?"

  Tash's gaze fell, his expression darkening. Long, silent moments passed.

  "Never mind," Mayr said. "You don't have to—"

  "Mistakes. Ones I should have never made. Ones I deserved. Just like these reminders. I broke the rules. I didn't do what I was told. I paid the price, taken from my flesh for something as simple as morality. I wouldn't spill blood, so mine was taken in its stead." Tash looked up. "Blood can be remade; death is permanent."

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

  Tash raised his hand. "No, no apologies. Just tell me: your scars, they're battle-born? Brawls, fights, training?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I'd say the game's finished." Tash unclasped the chain from his bracer, slipped off his ring, and laid it on his discarded garments.

  "In case you didn't notice, I don't have any clothes left."

  "Ah, but there is one thing I want." Pressed against Mayr, Tash removed the tie from Mayr's braid.

  Able to take the hint, Mayr teased the braid apart and shook his hair loose until it hung in waves past his shoulders.

  Tash coiled the end of several black strands around his finger. "Beautiful," he whispered, resting his other hand on Mayr's hip. His lips sought Mayr's, and as he tilted his head to claim a deeper kiss, he interlaced his fingers with Mayr's.

  Their bodies were almost as one, Mayr realized, moaning against Tash's lips. They shared the same breaths, passion flowing between them as smooth as water. What he poured into their kiss was returned, suggesting, just for the moment, they felt the same for each other. That everything he had thought was only in his head was actually real. Not a figment of his imaginative hopes.

  "Come." Tash tugged Mayr's hands, their fingers still locked together.

  Without argument, Mayr obeyed. Tash sat on the ground, legs crossed, near the pool but not close enough to touch it. Behind him, the warm water was calm, brightened by the light streaming in from the window above. A broken reflection of the moon filled the spaces between the red and white flowers floating on the surface.

  Tash pulled Mayr down to his lap. Mayr straddled Tash's thighs and wrapped his legs around Tash's hips and back. They maneuvered closer together until they were nearly hip-to-hip, their cocks trapped between them. No matter the angle, skin slid along skin, grinding salaciously. Balanced on Tash's legs, Mayr wrapped his arms around Tash's shoulders to keep from leaning back too far.

  They sat quietly, focused on each other as Tash's hands explored almost every part of Mayr. Tender fingers massaged Mayr's shoulders and back, relieving a fraction of the tension that plagued him daily. Tash's hands continued to travel over the tattoos and once-torn skin. His fingertips glided gingerly over the bruise on Mayr's left side where Pellon had jabbed him in the ribs. From there, the intimate touch roved over his chest and hardened nipples to his stomach and further below. The journey culminated in pressured strokes along the underside of his cock from root to tip until he groaned and buried his face in Tash's neck.

  Touch for touch, Mayr returned the exploration. Satisfaction commanded him as he held Tash's cock firmly and stroked mercilessly. Gasps and moans were not his only reward. A deep, grinding motion accompanied them, which Tash continued even after Mayr removed his hand.

  "Is this what you were after?" Mayr murmured, nipping Tash's shoulder.

  "Yes." Tash held Mayr still, his hands locked together behind Mayr's neck. "I don't want to rush this." His palm flattened on Mayr's chest, over his heart. "Not all meaningful, beautifully intimate moments require the full act of sex. It can be even more significant when we take the slow path. We can still be one; we can still obtain what we need. That which we pursue patiently can be the most gratifying, especially when our bodies think they dictate everything and leave the spirit to weep in neglect."

  "You're talking priest again."

  "I'm afraid so." Tash tucked Mayr's hair behind his ears.

  Just as Mayr wanted to argue for more talk, Tash's mouth took his, silencing every word with strong lips and a playful tongue. Fingers moved over his cock and balls before slipping beneath to rest in the warm crevice and caress him. Lifting slightly, he granted Tash more access and moaned against Tash's lips as fingertips circled his tight opening. Rarely had he considered how it would feel to have someone inside him. But as one fingertip teased, seeking entry, the thought of Tash thrusting into him made his cock throb. Eager to feel Tash's finger push inside, he ground against Tash's hand.

  When Tash retreated instead, Mayr waited in confusion.

  Tash cupped both palms around the back of Mayr's neck. "I want to go slow. I don't want to rush, for so many reasons." He kissed Mayr again, the touch as gentle as the first time they had kissed. "I love that you want this, but I want to work up to things. I'm used to this; you aren't. You shouldn't feel pressured, obligated, or taken advantage of. Just know I'm here, willing, and I don't mind being the one you explore with. Just forgive me if I'm overly protective at times."

  Mayr drew his fingers along Tash's lips, digesting the words. Had it been anyone else, he would have responded with sar
casm or a quip to play off his annoyance at being treated as though he were naïve. Life came with pain, some of it downright unbearable while some offered an equal share of pleasure. He did not need to be coddled or treated like a child. Not when he could break a man's neck with just his hands or shatter ribs in a swift blow.

  Despite it all, he savoured Tash's concern and yielded to words he had never realized he needed to hear. Tash saw through him to the breakable parts no one else bothered to look for—not even Mayr.

  "Consider yourself forgiven," Mayr said, "if you'll forgive me for being eager. I usually jump into things. I can't help it. Maybe that's been my problem all along." He could count the number of times he had taken a relationship at a crawling pace on one hand, even if half of the fingers were missing. Normally he gave everything from the start and worked to maintain it.

  Then when the other person's taken whatever they wanted, I'm left with nothing. Maybe not this time. This time, I'll try something different.

  "I'm sure we can find the compromise between us. But there's something else." Tash pressed their foreheads together. "Whatever happens, I don't want you to misunderstand. I want you, but it's better if we keep this from going too far. Let's just keep this casual. Let's not get too involved. We can't fall in love. No matter what, love doesn't factor into this. Otherwise, it's not fair to you. I like you and I want to be the one you try new things with. But I have to focus on being a priest. I can't do love. I just can't."

  Love? When had they started discussing that? Mayr dipped his head in agreement, unable to find words that would not have sounded confused or misinterpreted as an insult. It's not like I'm in love with him. I'm just curious, that's it. Yeah, I feel something, mostly how much I need to come, but it can't possibly be love. Not even close.

  Whatever their feelings were—whatever was budding between them—would die off once they got to know each other. They would spend time together, discover each other's annoying habits, and suck every bit of lust out of their companionship until they were bored. Then they would part ways and continue as if they had never been. If he committed to little from the start, there would be nothing to lose except the pleasure of obtaining release by someone else's means rather than relying on his hand alone. Perhaps a relationship without attachment would be better. He could not lose what he did not expect to have.